Dead Man Talking
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Most of SecOps was confident in Quartrich's plan in dealing the na'vi a psychological blow, bringing vastly superior technology to bear. But as he watched history repeat itself, Ryder didn't share their level of confidence.


**Dead Man Talking**

Two years is a long time.

Not that Pandora would give this impression, given the length of its 'year' of orbiting around its host planet. But everyone on this base uses Earth's standard and as a result you know you've been here over 730 days. And while you're not sure of the exact number of days you've been here, you know that even if you _had _kept track, you won't be adding another one tomorrow.

You lie on what counts for a bed on this moon and stare at the ceiling. You know that it's a beautiful night outside and that even through the plastic of an exopack, you'd be able to see the stars clearly, free from the light pollution of back home. But you don't want to look at the stars. You know that one of them, a certain yellow star located 4.37 light years hosts a planet that you're representing. And tomorrow, at 0800 hours, you'll begin representing it in the worst manner possible, albiet perhaps the most fitting one.

Lying over in your bed, you reach over for the photo, the one taken in one of the few happy moments you've had on this world, said moment being two years ago. You've never told anyone about keeping it, not even "tree hugging Trudy" as some of your fellow grunts have taken to calling her. You can't help but regret that a bit. You and one of the few people you'd call a friend on this rock are on opposite sides. Only difference is, she's fighting for what she believes in.

Would Kendra have stuck with the RDA like you did? Hard to tell. The dead tend to remain silent.

Things got better over time admittedly. The days pass less slowly for instance, attributable to your own emotions rather than any deviations in ACAB-4's orbit. But even now, you have to admit, you're living in the past, even as grim as it is, not to mention your defeating the Tipani sealing the nature of your present. Scientists hate you, soldiers give you compliments you could do without and despite having been labelled a "hero" by your current CO, half of the people around you can't even remember your name. Then again, you didn't really say anything in your acceptance ceremony. At times, words leave more of an impression than actions.

Words...funny that. Right now you'd trade a Na'vi-English dictionary for your rifle. At least _that _would be effective in bringing an end to this.

What's even funnier is that despite this being what some might call the calm before the storm, you feel that you've reached your own climax long ago. You're not without your own friends, but they don't even come close to the first ones you made. Individuals who actually cared about and respected you rather than saying "do this," "shoot that" and "I don't give a damn about your moral reservations." But then again, there's only a few reasons to come to Pandora. Money is one of them, scientific interest another. Making friends is most definitely _not _a reason. Because the chances are that they'll head back home before you get to know them and all you can hope for is that they're still alive when the time comes. And right now, you know that all of your friends are dead or are about to become that way. Such a standard was set long before Hell's Gate moved into Condition Red.

You look at your watch-0533 hours. Twenty-seven more minutes and you'll be awakened, given a pep talk and sent to do the devil's work. You also know that as Hell's demons flying out through its gates, you'll be sent back there if you're lucky and purged from Heaven's shoals if decidedly less so. Unlike most of the people here, you know what the enemy can do. The Tipani were hard enough and facing multiple clans doesn't exactly fill you with confidence. Quartrich can yak on as much as he wants about "bitch slapping their goddess," but you know firsthand that if he tries, Eywa will simply grab his wrist and break it. The modulator only worked a few minutes after all. So what makes him think that even more basic technology will put an end to this?

Still, you don't care. You know that "traitor no. 1" is leading the "Aboriginal horde" and that despite the perceived odds, he'll survive the ordeal. Because while you were presented with similar choices, you chose what was easy while he chose what was right. And since you know that this world's goddess is indeed real, it isn't farfetched to assume that Pandora has its own system of karma. And given how long your own judgement has been delayed, you can bet that her wrath will make up for lost time. Still, you don't care. It'll all be over soon. This has been two years in the making. What's the harm in waiting for a few more hours?

Turning over in your bed and giving the photo of your closest friend, you can at least take solace that if there _is _something beyond death, you'll at least be joining her soon.


End file.
